








































THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS, 
STANZAS. 
a° , mercies cluster like sweet flowers, 
, where’er our footsteps tread, 
1 only we do not always see the gifts 
for us outspread ; 
We murmur at the troubles that we meet as 
we advance ; 
And gaze on our discomforts till their number 
we enhance ; 
But common way-side blessings oft escape our 
careless glance. 

Yet still the thoroughfare of life continuously 
they gem, 
And weary spirits grow refresh’d while recog- 
nising them. 
O God of beauty and of love, we thank Thee 
for these flowers, 
Nurtured in dry and sterile spots, by sunshine 
and by showers, 
These daily mercies springing up to cheer this 
world of ours! 
A. M. 













ell 
a pe a Ter 
